SOME weeks can be going along just swimmingly until the far-flung IT Department tries to connect with you.
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You know when you get an email along these lines:
With the recent changes to our company email addresses, your existing Apple ID will require migration.
Yikes!
Not unlike grief, there are seven stages to processing this type of email.
- Shock and denial. This is a state of disbelief and numbed feelings ie. keep scrolling through your emails, there's nothing to see here!
- Pain and guilt. There's a fine line between pleasure and pain in the world of email correspondence.
- Anger and bargaining. Why must we migrate? I LIKE IT JUST FINE, RIGHT HERE!@#!!
- Depression. Possibly an exaggeration in response to an email request, but not always!
- The upward turn. You know you can do this! Just do it!!
- Reconstruction and working through. Now where was that message? Was it in Messenger? Facebook? Your email inbox but way down the queue and at least three full screens ago. Nevertheless, you'll find it because you rarely delete anything.
- Acceptance and hope. You did it. Praise be!
Once I'd reset my password, I set about answering the security questions. Who is your first manager? Cool. I know. I know. I know. Done. What is your favourite children's book? Easy-peasy. The Lorax by Dr Seuss. Sadly, I was wrong on both questions.
Like some other Gen-Xers or even Baby Boomers, there are three courses of action in response to this type of email request.
Step 1: Don't read any further. This is already beyond your realm of technological capabilities.
Step 2: Ignore it until the third email lands reminding you about it.
Step 3: Ask your best IT friend forever (BITFF) in the workplace to help you sort it out otherwise any child younger than the age of 12. My nine-year-old would not bat an eyelid at a migration request of this type.
When I came across this email recently, I knew two things were a given.
I would have forgotten my password.
I would have also forgotten the correct answers to any security questions asked of me.
Once I'd reset my password, I set about answering the security questions.
Who was your first manager?
Cool. I know. I know. I know. Done.
What is your favourite children's book?
Easy-peasy. The Lorax by Dr Seuss.
Sadly, I was wrong on both questions.
MORE MATERIAL GIRL:
I didn't remember being asked these security questions five years ago when I set up the account but I felt confident I could crack them.
I tried another manager and another book.
Oh, The Places You'll Go! was another favourite by the same author.
Wrong. Wrong.
I tried Enid Blyton, The Enchanted Wood. Then all volumes of the Famous Five and Secret Seven series.
This was becoming a 1980s-style Choose Your Own Adventure with no real ending in sight.
Finally, when I confessed to being an "IT ignoramus" to someone much more qualified than me, I found out there were standard answers to the security questions.
We also all have the same birthday on staff for exercises like this.
Sadly, I've already forgotten my fake birthday!
Having gotten to the bottom of the migration, my iPhone would not let up with bossy texts this week.
Your iCloud storage is almost full. You have 319.4 MB left of 5 GB total storage.
Honestly, how can it be that full? I'm a minimalist and I hate clutter! Someone must be crashing my cloud.
Hey, you, get off of my cloud!
In spite of this, I deleted a few photos and seven short videos.
During our last correspondence on Monday, my phone said my screen time was up on average three hours.
No wonder!
Please don't tell my kids!!
